


Let Us Cling Together

by Lucifleur



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1850s london, BDSM elements, Belly Kink, Deep Throating, Dirty Talk, Don't copy to other sites, Double Penetration in One Hole, Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), Feeding, Inflation, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Prostitution, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Size Kink, Size Queen Crowley, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), pain slut Crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifleur/pseuds/Lucifleur
Summary: A human friend of Aziraphale's has somewhere he simply can't wait to show him. It turns out to be a whorehouse, containing a certain demonic presence.“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been five thousand years since my last confession. I confess to the sins of sloth, wrath, pride, envy, greed.” He dipped his head lower, and his breath ghosted against Aziraphale’s throbbingly hard cock. “And lussst,” he hissed.





	1. A Charming Little Establishment

Aziraphale shifted his weight from foot to foot and consulted his pocket watch. His friend was late. The evening fog was starting to creep in, and he decided if Henry didn’t show up soon he was going to give it up as a bad job and go back to the bookshop. The ‘charming little establishment’ that Henry simply couldn’t _wait_ to show him couldn’t be all that special; he had his assurance it wasn’t a book store _or_ a restaurant. Just what kind of place was it? And in a street like this. There were ruffians and vagabonds loitering around, he could smell opium smoke from across the way. He pulled his hat brim a little lower. It was nice having a human friend though. He’d had to come up with a first name to fit in with A. Z. Fell, which was one of the most private jokes in London, given that only he and the demon Crowley got it. He’d settled on Allister after much thought. He rubbed his hands together, although he could warm himself miraculously if he wanted. But he’d been more discerning with his miracles these days, ever since the sternly worded note. And then Henry appeared through the billowing fog, and Aziraphale smiled at him. “There you are, Henry! I was about to go home,” he said, rather reproachfully. 

“Sorry, Allister, I had trouble finding a cab,” he said, putting his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder and towering above him, his cheeks pink from the cold.

“Now where is this place you want so badly to take me to?” 

“Just down the street a few steps. It’s that building there,” said Henry, pointing. It looked like an apartment building or a boarding house. As they approached, Aziraphale saw a small sign on the door, but before he could read it, Henry pulled it open and gestured for him to go inside. Aziraphale did after half a second, somewhat nervously. They were greeted at the door by a middle-aged woman with a low cut bodice and a feather headdress. 

“Henry, good to see you back. And you’ve brought that friend you were telling me about,” she said sweetly, looking at Aziraphale. “Oh, he looks like a little lost puppy! But we’ll take good care of him.” She smiled kindly at him, and he smiled back, puzzled. Take good care of him? They hung their hats and overcoats up and followed her down a short hallway, past a few doorways. “Are you nervous, dear?” said the woman, turning to Aziraphale. 

“Um, yes, I suppose so,” he muttered, unsure why the woman was asking him. What kind of business was this? Meanwhile, Henry stepped into the room beyond, greeting someone else.

“Henry!” they were saying, in a voice that sounded strangely familiar, “So good to see you again. You know how I enjoy your visits.” The person, a man, kissed the air beside Henry’s cheeks, and Aziraphale turned and saw, no. It couldn’t be. It was Crowley. Wearing only a purple silk dressing gown, left alluring open at his chest, and black stockings, his hair curling down just past his jaw, framing his face. It had been at least two decades since he saw him last, and now this. Aziraphale nearly swallowed his tongue and turned to go, but Henry pulled him around. 

“And this the friend I was telling you about—”

“Mr. Fell!” said Crowley, scandalized, but proud of himself for remembering Aziraphale’s human monicker. “Fancy seeing you! And _here_.” He smiled widely, raising his eyebrows, as if to ask what on earth Aziraphale was doing here. Aziraphale stood stock still, lips pressed together. The room beyond was full of soft divans and couches, dark satin wall hangings, and two other men dressed similarly to Crowley. 

“You’ve met? All the better!” exclaimed Henry, clapping Aziraphale on the back. “But does that mean...”

“No, Henry, it was... in another life. But the Mr. Fell I knew wouldn’t dream of patronising a place like this.” Crowley put his hand on his bare chest, licking his lips. 

“Henry, what. What are we doing here? What kind of place is it?” Aziraphale hissed behind his hand. 

“Well, Mrs. L, who met us at the door, is a madam,” said Henry, nudging him significantly. Aziraphale blinked at him, not understanding. 

“You’ll have to spell it out more clearly than that, Henry,” said Crowley, stepping close and trailing a hand down Aziraphale’s chest, taking his hand. He pulled him into the room and down onto one of the couches. Crowley sat next to him, almost climbing into his lap. “It’s nice to meet you, again, Mr. Fell. You can call me Damien. I’m a _rentboy_.” Crowley smirked at Aziraphale’s shocked face, quite enjoying his consternation, and the other men laughed behind their hands. Crowley put his arm around Aziraphale. “And Henry has been telling me about a friend of his who shares our... certain peculiarity, and who never seems to have a companion. That’s you,” Crowley added in a whisper. Aziraphale swallowed, looking from Henry to Crowley. 

“Henry, I hardly think...” He drew himself up even more than usual. “If... you, I—”

“Our mutual friend thinks it might do you good to loosen up every once in a while,” murmured Crowley, looking him up and down. 

“My treat, old boy,” said Henry, who was currently wrapped up in one of the attractive young men. “Unless you don’t want to, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I... I didn’t say that,” whispered Aziraphale, his voice strangled. Crowley smirked again. 

“You’ll have to speak up, _angel_ ,” he breathed, hotly. 

“I didn’t say that, ah, I didn’t mean to say I don’t want to, but, uh. Well.” Aziraphale trailed off, turning his head to find Crowley’s face quite close to his, a certain dangerous glint in his yellow eyes. The door had been closed behind them. Henry was kissing one of the men, and the other was pressed along his back, reaching, grasping, holding. 

“These two are Peter,” said Henry, and the shorter one wiggled his fingers in a wave. “And Simon.” And the taller one smiled at Aziraphale. “And this is my friend, Allister Fell, purveyor of fine books.”

“Allister?” whispered Crowley, incredulously.

“Well, it had to start with an A. And it means defender or protector of man. It seemed appropriate,” whispered Aziraphale. “And you’re one to talk. Damien?” Crowley shrugged. 

“It’s meant to be demonic and a little sexy,” he muttered. 

“And what are you _doing_ here?”

“I should hope,” said Crowley quietly, voice dripping with playful derision, “That it would be obvious... what I’m _doing_ here.” Aziraphale pursed his lips and glanced over at the other three, who weren’t paying them any attention. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I’m obviously tempting people,” murmured Crowley, running a hand down his silk covered thigh. “And a lot of people end up telling me their problems, so I whisper something Tempting and demonic in their ears and send them on their way.” Crowley nudged his legs apart and resettled himself more properly in Aziraphale’s lap, who put an arm around him instinctively to help him balance.

“I didn’t think you got so hands-on with the tempting,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“Oh, I can be _very_ hands-on,” hissed Crowley, putting his hands on Aziraphale’s chest and leaning in. 

“Everything alright over there?” called Henry, whose shirt was off. “We could send for a different boy if he’s not to your liking.”

“No, no, he’s charming.” Aziraphale smiled awkwardly before turning back to his lapful of demon. Crowley ran a hand through his white gold curls and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, I’m charming, am I?” He smirked. 

“Well. Yes. I expect this wouldn’t work if you weren’t charming,” stammered Aziraphale. Crowley gave his shoulders a self-satisfied little wiggle. 

“And am I beautiful?” asked Crowley. “Do you like having me in your lap, covered only by a layer of silk?” he teased, stretching sinuously. The luxurious robe clung to his lanky frame, both hiding and revealing the curves and planes of his body, dripping off him like water. 

“I have always thought that you are beautiful,” murmured Aziraphale. Crowley froze, his devious plans interrupted. “Except for the soul patch. I couldn’t stand that dratted soul patch.” Crowley swallowed and stared at his mild expression. “Well, go on then.” Aziraphale smiled encouragingly. “You were in the middle of Tempting me.” Crowley looked away for a moment. Peter and Simon were undressing Henry, pressing kisses to his naked chest as they pushed down his trousers. 

“Right, yeah, uh,” said Crowley. He undid Aziraphale’s bow tie and unbuttoned his collar, exposing his pale throat. Aziraphale swallowed and shifted under him. Crowley mentally shook himself and resumed his wiles. “Enjoying yourself?” he purred. Aziraphale nodded ever so slightly. Crowley ducked his head, lips close, so close to his neck. “You really want me... to continue?” he whispered, breathing tickling him. 

“I want _you_ , Crowley,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around and pulling him close. Crowley shuddered and breathed him in, his tongue darting out unconsciously, feather-light on his neck. He could taste his soap, his cologne, a touch of sweat. Aziraphale moved his hands down to his waist and sighed. Crowley pulled back and looked him in the eyes.

“And what do you want me to do? I am yours for the evening,” he said, seductively.

“Well, just now, I—I want you to kiss me,” said Aziraphale under his breath. 

“Having a moment?” called Simon, teasingly. He was fingering Peter as Henry watched.

“Shut up,” said Crowley, surprisingly mildly. 

“Overall though, and broadly speaking,” continued Aziraphale softly, smiling, “I want you to remain at my side, always. I want you to take dinner with me and walk with me in the park. I want you never to leave me alone for twenty three years again.” Crowley blinked and found that his eyes were wet. “But let’s start with that kiss. That’s something you can do, hmm?” Crowley kissed him all in a rush, holding his head in his hands, tears threatening to spill over as he closed his eyes. 

“You could get in a lot of trouble for saying things like that,” he murmured. 

“You could get in a lot of trouble for doing things like that,” Aziraphale returned, and kissed him, chastely. 

“Then we shall have to be in trouble together, because I will be at your side for as long as the sun and stars are hung in the sky. And when they have fallen down, I will be with you still,” whispered Crowley, staring intently into the angel’s eyes before kissing him deeply, slipping his tongue into his mouth.

“That’s a pretty long moment you’re having there, Damien,” called Simon. Peter snorted with laughter, but it was muffled by Henry’s cock in his mouth. 

“I said shut up,” growled Crowley, turning to glare at them. 

“Well, are you a poet or a whore? I’ll service him if you won’t,” smirked Simon, making Peter whine as he twisted his fingers. Crowley drew himself up, full of menace, and hissed loudly. 

“He’sss mine,” Crowley snarled, holding tighter to Aziraphale. Aziraphale, to his embarrassment, felt his cock twitch at that. 

“Jesus, alright. Thought we were sharing,” said Simon, taken aback. Crowley turned back to Aziraphale, fire in his eyes, and started roughly pulled his clothes off, kissing him passionately. Aziraphale helped, shedding layers until he was naked from the waist up. Crowley pulled back and yanked Aziraphale to his feet. He caught his breath, cheeks pink, and looked adoringly at Crowley as he quickly undressed him down to his pants. Aziraphale stopped him, then, a hand on his arm, and kissed him again, untying the sash of his robe and letting it slide off his shoulders. Aziraphale’s breath caught; he felt lightheaded and wondered if arousal could do that a person. He didn’t have much experience with it. Crowley stood before him, naked except for a garter belt and stockings, his hard cock exposed and framed beautifully. He smirked and pushed Aziraphale back against the wall, the dark satin wall hanging contrasting his pale skin, and dropped to his knees in front of the slack-jawed angel. He pulled down Aziraphale’s pants, freeing his erection from their confines. He rested his hands on Aziraphale’s hips, looking up at him through his eyelashes. 

“It should be illegal for you to look so good, darli—Damien,” groaned Aziraphale. 

“Technically, it is,” said Simon, pausing in his efforts of filling Peter’s hole with his cock while Henry fucked his mouth. “Those are women’s stockings, of course.” Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Satan give me patience,” he whispered before craning his neck to glower at him. “ Simon. What did I say about shutting up?” Simon threw up his hands in defeat before returning to his endeavor. Crowley let out an exasperated sigh, then fixed his eyes on Aziraphale’s face once more, skating his fingers closer to Aziraphale’s cock. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he began, too quietly for the others to hear. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with shock, and he would have backed up had he not already been pressed to the wall. “It has been five thousand years since my last confession. I confess to the sins of sloth, wrath, pride, envy, greed,” he dipped his head lower, and his breath ghosted against Aziraphale’s throbbingly hard cock. “And lussst,” he hissed, opening his jaw wide and taking his cock into his mouth and then quickly deepthroating him. Aziraphale whimpered and gripped Crowley’s hair, roughly, cumming down his throat and directly into his stomach. To Crowley’s surprise though, Aziraphale was still hard. Had the angel not remembered about refractory periods? Well, he wasn’t going to remind him. Crowley swallowed around him and pulled off. Aziraphale was breathing fast and pulled Crowley up to kiss him. “Eat of this, for it is my body. Drink of this, for it is my blood,” said Crowley, as smug as a cat that just ate the canary. 

“Now you’re just mixing metaphors,” said Aziraphale, sternly. 

“Fair enough,” said Crowley. He led Aziraphale to a couch and kneeled in front of him, hands on Aziraphale’s knees. “I repent my sins, Father. What shall be my penitence?” He edged his hands up Aziraphale’s naked thighs. 

“His nipples are very sensitive,” chimed in Henry, grinning as Peter gagged on his cock. Crowley shot him a dirty look before turning back to Aziraphale and adopting his expression of false contrition. 

“Well,” said Aziraphale, struggling to fulfill the role of dirty priest. “It seems to me like you need a, uh...”

“A spanking, perhaps?” said Crowley, helpfully. Aziraphale flushed and nodded. 

“Yes, a—a spanking,” stuttered Aziraphale. Crowley draped himself across his lap, his cock pressing into Aziraphale’s thigh, his elbows resting on the couch, and wiggled his hips invitingly. Aziraphale rested a hand on his buttocks a moment before giving him a gentle slap. 

“You can hit me harder than that, angel,” said Crowley. “Go ahead, I’ll enjoy it.” Aziraphale looked worried. “As long as you don’t use your grace, there’s no way you’ll hurt me,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid.” Aziraphale took a deep breath to steady himself, and spanked Crowley, hard, with the flat of his hand. He moaned, loudly, brokenly, arching his back. Aziraphale caught his breath at the beauty of it all. Here Crowley was, opening himself for the angel, begging for punishment. Aziraphale reeled back, spanking him again and again, gaining confidence. Not only was he not hurting him, but Crowley loved it, loved the pain and degradation. Crowley whimpered and bucked his hips, rubbing his leaking cock on Aziraphale’s thigh. His bottom grew pink, and he gasped and whimpered.

“So filthy,” said Aziraphale, pulling him off his lap and back onto his knees. Crowley whined and pouted. “You want more?” He nodded. “On the couch.” Crowley scrambled to obey, lying on his back as Aziraphale sat next to him and leaned down to kiss him. He trailed his hands down, healing and taking away the pain from the spanking. 

“You’re no fun,” pouted Crowley. Aziraphale straddled him and kissed him again. 

“I’ll show you just how fun I can be, _demon_ ,” he said, sharply but quietly. Crowley whimpered again; he was so hard it hurt, and his chest was overflowing with... with love. But that was something to examine later. He put his arms around him. Aziraphale leaned forward and put his mouth around one of Crowley’s nipples, sucking and then biting gently. He cried out brokenly, interrupting himself to whine, and cry out, and whine again as Aziraphale pulled his reddening nipple into his mouth and applied his teeth. He brought his hand up and rubbed the other one, pinching and petting. He switched after a few moments, and Crowley mewled piteously as he grasped one and twisted gently. He sat back, smiling down at the desperate Crowley. 

“Please,” he muttered, breathless. Aziraphale pinched both his nipples at the same time then twisted them both, hard, and Crowley screamed, bucking his hips and nearly unseating Aziraphale before collapsing back onto the couch. Aziraphale leaned down and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Your penance is performed. You are forgiven, my son,” he whispered. Crowley lay there silently, holding Aziraphale with shaking hands.

“I... I hadn’t dared hope you would be so rough with me,” panted Crowley in a low voice. 

“I didn’t know that it was something you wanted,” murmured Aziraphale. 

“W... we can explore that another time. But if I don’t cum soon, I think I’ll explode.”

“That’s not something that can actually happen, right?” said Aziraphale, worried.

“No, no. It’s figurative.”

“Well, would you like to get back in my lap?” asked Aziraphale, getting off him and sitting down with his back propped against the couch. Crowley nodded and started to crawl into his lap but Aziraphale stopped him with a raised finger. “Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes... please?” guessed Crowley. And he loved that too, being spoken to with such authority, but only ever from his angel. Aziraphale spread his legs and patted the couch between them. Crowley sat, his back to Aziraphale’s chest, legs stretched out in front of him. He could feel Aziraphale’s erection against his back and smiled to himself. He liked knowing he was bringing Aziraphale pleasure. Aziraphale ran his hands up and down Crowley’s chest, and he tipped his head back, resting it on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale kissed his hair and reached down to glide his hands up Crowley’s stockinged thighs and wrap a hand around his cock, leaving the other on his stomach. He hummed, low in his chest as Aziraphale moved his hand up and down slowly. “ ’S a bit dry,” he whispered, and Aziraphale took his hand back and held it in front of Crowley’s mouth. 

“Well, then you’d better get my hand wet,” he said casually. Crowley shivered slightly and stuck out his tongue, licking Aziraphale’s palm, tasting his own precum. Aziraphale moved his hand and slid all four fingers into Crowley’s mouth, pressing his tongue down and holding his mouth open. Crowley groaned, long and low, his eyes rolling back. He licked his fingers and tried to close his mouth, but Aziraphale didn’t allow it, and a strand of drool escaped and ran down his chin. “You just love debasing yourself, don’t you?” He nodded as best he could. “You get off on it.” Aziraphale reached even further into his mouth, teasing the entrance to his throat, and Crowley nearly came right there. Aziraphale pulled his hand out and stroked Crowley’s cock. 

“That... that was the hottest thing anyone’s ever done to me,” rasped Crowley. He’d have to ask him to do it again later. Aziraphale’s hand sped up, then Crowley was cumming as hard as he ever had, all over his own stomach and Aziraphale’s other hand. Aziraphale raised his hand, considering the cum for a moment sticking his fingers in his mouth and tasting it. Crowley lay bonelessly for a moment before kneeling in front of Aziraphale once again. He kissed the head of his cock and licked it up and down. “Mmm, you might have to take control,” he murmured, the afterglow leaving him warm and fuzzy, and uncoordinated. He wrapped his lips around Aziraphale’s cock and took his hands, placing them on his head. Aziraphale experimentally pulled his head down and moaned. Crowley shuffled closer, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s legs. Aziraphale gripped his hair and pulled his head back before pushing it back down and thrusting his hips. Crowley let himself relax as Aziraphale used his throat. Henry, Simon and Peter watched them. Up and down, in and out. Crowley didn’t need to think anything, say anything, do anything. Some drool worked its way to Aziraphale’s ballsack, and he thrust his hips up sharply, making Crowley gurgle vaguely in surprise. Aziraphale sped up and in a few more thrusts, he came down Crowley’s throat for the second time that evening. His hands released Crowley’s head as he panted, slumping back in the embrace of the couch. He swallowed, drawing a hiss from Aziraphale. 

“You’ve, uh, been down there a while, Damien. Are you ok? Do you need to come up for air?” asked Henry, raising his eyebrows. Crowley waved a hand dismissively, then gave a loose thumbs up, as if to say, nahhhh, I’m fine. Perks of not really needing to breathe. Peter and Simon started redressing Henry and putting their robes back on, talking quietly. Aziraphale finally patted Crowley’s cheek, and he pulled off and coughed, settling on the couch next to him.

“That was amazing, Crowley,” he whispered. Crowley flung his arms around him and nuzzled into his soft chest.

“Mmmm, made me feel soooo good,” murmured Crowley. 

“You probably say that to all the boys,” laughed Aziraphale. 

“I do, but this time I mean it. You take such good care of me,” said Crowley. Henry smiled. 

“Well, Allister, I’ll pay on my way out, and I suppose we’ll leave you two alone while you recover,” he said. 

“Mmm, thank you,” mumbled Aziraphale, kissing the top of Crowley’s head. And Henry left with Peter and Simon, and they were alone. “So sexy in those stockings.” Crowley laughed softly. 

“Glad you like it. Can’t believe we waited so long to do something like this.” 

“Hey, Crowley?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” 


	2. Gluttony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How would you feel about... indulging in some gluttony right now?” asked Aziraphale, slightly breathless. “Just to, uh. To round out your repertoire, of course.”

Aziraphale set down one cup of tea, for himself, and one cup of coffee, for Crowley, and sat next to him on a setee in his flat above the bookshop. Crowley slurped his coffee, which he took black, and loosened his scarf. “So,” said Aziraphale primly. “Is this visit business or pleasure?” Crowley had sauntered into the bookshop a few minutes ago, and he’d taken it as an excuse to kick everyone else out and close up early. 

“Oh, angel, pleasure is my business,” purred Crowley. “I can’t stay too long, but you forgot this,” he added, returning to a more normal tone of voice. He tugged a floral handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it over. 

“Ah, thank you, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, smiling and taking it from him, despite the fact that he hadn’t even brought such a handkerchief with him to Crowley’s place of employment, let alone forgotten it there. “I, um. I want you to be sure that I... that I meant what I said. The uh, the last time we saw each other. I—I didn’t merely say it in a, uh...”

“Post-orgasmic haze?”

“Y—yes,” stuttered Aziraphale, blushing. “In a queer twist of fate, you’ve been kinder to me than the angels ever have.”

“I also meant what I said,” said Crowley, looking away. Aziraphale smiled and gave a satisfied little wiggle. 

“Of course, if anyone found out...” started Aziraphale, deflating somewhat. 

“Indeed. I think it’s important to remember, however, that they’ve never noticed our... Arrangement. If they haven’t paid attention to you doing some Tempting, and to me performing some divine Miracles, well.”

“I suppose... our respective employers must be, somehow, otherwise occupied,” said Aziraphale carefully, sipping his tea. 

“That would seem to be case,” said Crowley, putting his cup down and resting his hand on Aziraphale’s leg. And so small, so insignificant a touch felt to Aziraphale suddenly so exhilarating, which was ridiculous, given just how much and how deeply they’d touched each other a few days ago. Aziraphale shifted closer to him, casually, as if by accident, and had another sip of tea before gingerly placing his free hand on top of Crowley’s. “So, uh, you’re friends with Henry?”

“Yes.”

“That would explain why my wiles aren’t reaching him,” said Crowley, nodding. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Aziraphale set his teacup down loudly. 

“Gluttony!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The um. The last time we saw each other, you were, ah, pretending to confess to your sins. And you only said six, and I was trying to remember the last one. It’s gluttony,” explained Aziraphale. 

“Well, that’s a little more your purview than mine, when it comes to sins. I rarely eat.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t overdo it in the way that gluttony implies. Nor do I cause other people to go hungry,” said Aziraphale, blushing slightly.

“Very true,” said Crowley. 

“Would you ever want... to be forgiven?” asked Aziraphale, looking into Crowley’s eyes through his dark glasses. He swallowed. 

“I’m a demon. I’m not meant to be forgiven. Falling is a... one way journey,” he said slowly. 

“That’s not what I asked, dear.” 

“I mean, the confession, I was just playing. And I’ve never really understood the whole Catholic confession _thing_ , either. I mean, you’re supposed to promise not to sin again, right? But if sin is...” he fumbled, gesturing wildly, “Inherent to the human condition, then what’s the point in promising not to do it again when they practically have to? And if they’re born in sin, well, what’s that about? Little babies haven’t even had time to learn how to be human, let alone start sinning,” ranted Crowley, and Aziraphale noticed he still hadn’t really answered his question. He furrowed his brow. Original sin was hereditary, but Crowley had a point. All babies could do was laugh and cry and kick their little feet. Hardly sinful activities. “Don’t... don’t think too hard about it, angel,” Crowley added, patting his leg. 

“No, you’ve got a point though, if—” he started.

“Don’t, please, Aziraphale,” said Crowley, suddenly much more serious. 

“Wh... why not?”

“It’s just that I can’t bare the thought of you...” Crowley stopped himself, his jaw clenching, and looked away. “I can’t bare the thought of you no longer being in Her love,” he whispered. 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, quietly. Crowley was worried he might Fall. He supposed it was possible. In all this time, though, he’d figuratively speaking gotten away with murder several times. He thought it unlikely they would start caring now; they’d loosened up a bit since Crowley had been cast out.

“I know how much it means to you, and... and I’ve never...”

“Thank you for always looking out for me, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, taking another sip of tea. 

“Well. Where would I be without you to thwart my wiles.”

“Almost certainly not here,” answered Aziraphale. “And if our employers aren’t looking, or even if they are, well. As they say, in for a penny, in for a pound.” Crowley looked over at him, and he pulled his head down into a kiss, his hand on the nape of his neck. Crowley gasped softly and reached blindly for Aziraphale, gripping his shoulder. “Do you kiss your clients?” he murmured. 

“No, they’re not allowed to kiss me,” said Crowley. Something lit up in Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley took off his dark glasses. “They fuck me, and I fuck them, and I suck their cocks, but they’re not allowed to kiss me, not on my lips.”

“All for me, hmm?” teased Aziraphale.

“All for you,” Crowley whispered, a promise, a prayer, and kissed him again. 

“How would you feel about... indulging in some gluttony right now?” asked Aziraphale, slightly breathless. “Just to, uh. To round out your repertoire, of course.”

“I wouldn’t be... opposed to the idea,” said Crowley, licking his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought perhaps, that is, if it’s okay with you, that um. That I might feed you,” managed Aziraphale. Crowley slid off the couch to kneel before him, a blanket miraculously appearing under him to cushion the floor. 

“Anything you wish, angel,” he whispered. Aziraphale shivered and closed his eyes for a moment at the sight of Crowley so soft and willing. When he opened his eyes, Crowley’s everyday clothes had vanished, and he was wearing the stockings again, this time with red silk panties and a tightly laced corset. Aziraphale moaned and felt himself grow hard. He stood and rested a hand on his head, and Crowley pressed his face to his crotch, nuzzling his cock through the cloth of his trousers and looking up at him in devotion. 

“I—I’ll just get something from the kitchen,” stuttered Aziraphale, tearing himself away. He hurried back with several plates of different kinds of foods and set them on the table. Crowley looked at him, his gaze full of trust, and he smiled fondly at him before sitting back down on the couch. Crowley shuffled closer, right between his spread legs. He took his face in both his hands and turned his head side to side, looking at him appraisingly. “Such a pretty little demon I’ve caught. But look at you! Skinny as a rake. Someone hasn’t been taking good care of you,” Aziraphale tutted.

“I... I’ve not had anyone to watch over me,” said Crowley, catching on. 

“You haven’t? Well, that explains it. Everyone knows demons need a master to flourish properly,” said Aziraphale, combing his fingers through his hair. Crowley licked his lips. Aziraphale was a natural at this, or else he knew Crowley inside and out. None of his clients made him feel like this. So safe, so loved, so... _owned_. Aziraphale took one of the plates in his lap. It held a juicy steak cut into slightly large than bite-sized pieces, small roasted potatoes covered in melted butter and green beans. Aziraphale picked up the fork and offered Crowley a piece of the steak. He took it and chewed slowly. He supposed he could see the appeal. It was rich and salty in his mouth, and it gave his teeth something to tear at. Aziraphale fed him the steak slowly, watching intently. Then the potatoes, each about an inch in diameter. He gently pressed one into his mouth, and it was almost too much, but Crowley swallowed it whole, just to show off, tilting his head back to make sure Aziraphale saw the bulge of it moving down his throat. Aziraphale shuddered slightly, before drawing himself up and giving him the next one. Crowley chewed this one and once he had swallowed, he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, ready for the next bite. Aziraphale was more than happy to oblige, following up the potatoes with the green beans. 

Next was a bowl of chowder he carefully spooned into his mouth, but Crowley was beginning to feel rather full, thanks to the corset. The soup was smooth and warm, thick and creamy. By the time Aziraphale was scraping the bowl clean, Crowley was whimpering slightly. “Is something the matter, pet?” he said kindly. 

“Master, please, the corset, it’s too tight for me to eat any more.”

“You’d better take it off in that case,” said Aziraphale. Crowley reached behind him and undid the laces with a moan as the pressure released. He cast it to the side and arched his back, sticking him stomach out, which already had a slight paunch to it. Aziraphale subtly palmed himself through his trousers at this display before getting back to business. 

Next came a plate of thick sausages. Crowley didn’t think he’d seen all these plates on the table, but no matter. Aziraphale speared one on the fork, and held it out, expecting him to take a bite, but instead Crowley took it into his mouth whole, sucking on it with gusto. 

“Oh, you just love having something in your mouth, hmm? Doesn’t have to be a cock, you’re not picky.” Crowley whimpered his assent, gently pulling the sausage off the fork and tilting his head back to let it slide down his throat. “Show off,” he whispered, breaking character for a moment. Crowley smiled smugly. Aziraphale picked up the next sausage in his fingers and pressed it into his willing mouth and down his throat a little before pulling back out with an obscene pop. 

“Don’t tease me, Master. I though you wanted to fatten me up,” pouted Crowley, rubbing his growing stomach. Aziraphale shook his head lovingly and pushed the sausage all the way into his mouth and down his throat. Crowley closed his mouth around his hand, sucking on his fingers and winding his tongue around them, only releasing him when he pulled his hand back. He ate the rest of the sausages normally, noting the slight smoky flavor once he actually bit into it. Crowley was starting to feel warm and heavy from the rich food, his stomach resting on his legs as he leaned forward. His panties were getting damp with precum from his straining cock, but he hadn’t touched himself yet. Aziraphale hadn’t given him permission. 

“So beautiful, so obedient,” murmured Aziraphale, stroking his hand down Crowley’s head and neck. Crowley rested his cheek on his knee.

“Are you going to let me drink your cum soon, Master? The food is delicious, but your cum is my favorite,” purred Crowley. He didn’t need to make any decisions right now, Aziraphale would take care of him, he would take care of everything. 

“Not yet, my precious little succubus,” he said. Crowley wiggled his hips, impatient and petulant, giving a whine. He drew a plate of sliced peaches onto his lap and picked up a piece, juice running down his fingers. Crowley opened his mouth obediently and let him slide the slice over his tongue, and his toes curled at the taste. It was sweet, but tart enough to be exciting, and perfectly ripe. After a few more pieces, there was juice dribbling down his chin, and Aziraphale carefully wiped his mouth with a damp napkin. “So good for me, you’re so _good_ ,” he said gently. Crowley shivered at the words and bit his lip. He wanted to say something seductive, something worthy of the most requested whore at Mrs. L’s Den of Desire, but there was a lump in his throat that had nothing to do with how much Aziraphale had fed him, and his eyes were wet with tears. “Oh, oh sweetheart, it’s okay,” cooed Aziraphale, stroking his cheek. “Do you want to stop?” Crowley shook his head. “What’s the matter?”

“ ’M not good,” he sniffed. “I’m not allowed, I’m not supposed.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrist.

“You may have everyone else fooled, Crowley, but I know you, truly. There’s wickedness in that heart of yours, but there is also goodness. It is shrouded and buried, but I sense it inside you,” Aziraphale said solemnly, trying to meet his gaze. Crowley sniffed again, rubbing his eyes harder. 

“I’m sorry, this can’t be sexy,” he muttered, trying to compose himself. 

“It’s alright, my darling, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” said Aziraphale, stroking his head and dabbing his eyes with the napkin. He pulled Crowley up to sit in his lap and kissed him tenderly, rubbing his belly. “You’ve been taking everything I give you so well, Crowley. Just let me take care of you.” Crowley buried his face in his neck and clung to him, breathing shakily. 

Aziraphale ran his hands up and down his back, tracing circles on his skin before bringing his hands up to where his wings would be and pressing down gently to massage the muscles there. Crowley whimpered as he started to relax, and his wings manifested suddenly, to his surprise as much as Aziraphale’s. They stretched over the pair of them, dark and glossy. 

“Divine,” Aziraphale murmured into his ear. “Celestial.” Crowley shook his head. “Magnificent,” Aziraphale added, reaching out to stroke the gleaming feathers. “Just look at you,” he whispered. Crowley shook his head again, harder. 

“I’m not,” he insisted softly. Aziraphale tangled his fingers in his hair and then tugged backward sharply, forcing his head back. 

“You are all the more wondrous for your imperfections, beloved,” said Aziraphale in a tone that brook no argument. “And I will tell you this again and again, until you start believing it.” 

“I liked it better when you were feeding me and getting hard watching me eat,” said Crowley, a little sulkily. 

“Would you like to continue with that? I can tell you more about how worthy and exquisite you are another time,” said Aziraphale, relenting. Crowley nodded. “How about some sweets?”

“Yes please, Master,” said Crowley, feeling more comfortable now that he was back on solid ground. He knew how to be submissive, how to be bashful and salacious all at once. He knew how to pleasure people; he’d made it his business. Aziraphale produced a large box of chocolates and offered one to him. He took it between his teeth and let it melt in his mouth. It certainly was a pleasant sensation. It was almost difficult to swallow however, and he moaned softly, letting his wings flutter. “Oh, I’m so full,” he gasped, placing Aziraphale’s hand on his bulging stomach. Aziraphale bit his lip and tentatively stroked his taut skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten quite this much,” Crowley murmured. “I’m absolutely stuffed.” 

“I think you can eat a little more, don’t you?” breathed Aziraphale. He held up another chocolate to his lips. 

“Mmmm, I don’t know. But perhaps if you helped me,” said Crowley suggestively, trailing off and opening his mouth. Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, then placed the chocolate at the back of his mouth, pressing it into his throat. Crowley swallowed it whole, making a show of it, squirming a little and whimpering. Aziraphale put his hand on his stomach, tenderly.

“What is it, pet?” he asked, pressing down slightly and making Crowley yelp. 

“Ahhh! Master, please, won’t you fuck me now that I’ve had my dinner? I want my slutty hole to be full too,” Crowley said pleadingly, caressing his cock through his trousers. Aziraphale moaned loudly, gripping Crowley’s hips. 

“You’re really very good at this, Crowley,” he said breathlessly. 

“Thank you, angel. Do you want to do that? We can do something else if you don’t.”

“No, no, I definitely want to uh, to fuck you,” stuttered Aziraphale. “I might need to lean on your expert guidance however.” Crowley stood up off his lap, putting away his wings, and held out a hand, pulling Aziraphale to his feet. 

“How do you manage to be so sexy and so not sexy at the same time?” he asked as Aziraphale lead the way to his bedroom. 

“I suppose it’s just a gift,” said Aziraphale, glancing over his shoulder and smiling innocently. Crowley rolled his eyes at that and sat on the edge of his bed, crossing his stockinged legs and preening as Aziraphale looked him over. 

“Enjoying the view? Feeling... tempted?”

“I do like looking at you,” he said, stepping closer and brushing his hands down Crowley’s sides. Crowley flushed slightly. He’d been called many things, told he was attractive by many men in many different ways, but Aziraphale’s simple statements hit closer to home than he had thought possible. Aziraphale knew him, really knew him, and still chose to spend time with him, again and again, and that meant so much more than all their words. Crowley reached up and undid Aziraphale’s cravat. Aziraphale carded his fingers through his hair and pressed their foreheads together as Crowley worked his way down to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. He grew frustrated after a while, and with a snap of his fingers, Aziraphale’s many layers were on the floor around him, leaving the angel bare, his cock hard. It was Crowley’s turn to stare. Aziraphale was soft where he was hard, round where he was flat. He’d seen him naked before, just those few days ago, but now he could take his time. He ran his fingers up his thigh, pressing a kiss to his soft stomach and breathing in the smell of his arousal. 

“I could worship you for days, angel,” Crowley murmured, feeling Aziraphale’s pulse quicken as he flushed. 

“I... I expect I couldn’t afford that much of your time, my darling.”

“Oh no, this would be gratis. Done on my own time, recreationally,” said Crowley softly, ever so softly scraping his fingernails up and down his back before groping and squeezing Aziraphale’s soft pectoral muscles. “But that’s something we could play at. You could come knocking on our door, the respectable gentleman indulging in secret. You could buy my body for the night and fuck me like I’m just a common whore, leaving your seed inside me to be discovered by the next man who paid to use my body.” Aziraphale licked his lips, winding his fingers through Crowley’s hair. He pulled back slightly and tugged off his panties, hissing as the silk dragged over his erection. He stood and unclipped the stockings, pulling them off slowly, bending down to put himself on display. He pushed down the garter belt and stepped out of it, completely bare at last. Aziraphale pressed against him suddenly, pulling him into a kiss and trying to touch as much of his skin as possible, holding and grabbing and reaching. Crowley whined as he pressed against his stomach, his hands quickly coming between them to shield the sensitive flesh, packed so full.

“So, uh, what’s the next step here?” breathed Aziraphale. 

“You’ll have to finger me,” said Crowley. Aziraphale furrowed his brows, confused. “To prepare my hole, loosen it so I can take you in without tearing.” Aziraphale nodded.

“Very well. I don’t really know how to, um...”

“It’s not exactly complex, sweetheart. I’d do it myself to show you, but I’m not sure I can reach, you stuffed me so full,” he said, almost in a growl. Aziraphale shuddered in his arms, gripping him tighter. “You like that, don’t you? You like seeing me stretched and stuffed and filled.”

“Y—yes.”

“Oh, there’s so many things I want you to experience, to do to me,” Crowley whispered, his breath hot on his neck. “But one thing at a time.” He pressed a bottle of salve into his hands. “Lubrication. Put it on your fingers and spread some on your cock before you fuck me.” He pulled away and climbed onto the bed, getting on all fours. Aziraphale took a deep breath, even though he didn’t need it, and followed, kneeling behind him. “Now, normally, you’d start with one finger, but I’ve been fucked _so_ much recently you can start with two.” Aziraphale daubed some of the salve on his fingers and gingerly pressed them inside Crowley. “That’s it. In and out a few times. Now start spreading your fingers apart. You’ll want to focus on stretching my rim. That’s good. And if you curl your fingers forward and down, toward my stomach, there’s—” Crowley cut himself off with a breathy moan.

“I think I found it,” said Aziraphale, smiling. He pressed on it again, and Crowley’s hole clenched around him as if trying to pull his fingers in deeper. 

“That’s it. Now, you can—mmmmMMMmm,” gasped Crowley, interrupted by Aziraphale massaging his prostate gland enthusiastically. “Oh, you’re a sneaky bastard, angel. Playing coy, like you don’t enjoy teasing me. As I was _trying_ to say, you can add a third finger, or if you’re feeling ready, you can stick your cock in me.” Aziraphale opted to slip a third finger inside him, slowly moving his hand in and out, staring as Crowley’s hole opened and widened to accept him. After a torturously long minute, Aziraphale withdrew his hand and slicked up his cock, moaning. He’d been hard for a while without real stimulation, and it felt incredible to finally get some relief. He shifted closer to Crowley and lined up his cock before achingly slowly pressing inside him. A long, low moan forced itself from Aziraphale’s lips. Crowley felt amazing around him, hot and slick.

“There you go, sweetheart. You feel so good inside me,” said Crowley soothingly, looking over his shoulder at him. Aziraphale shook himself as though waking from a daze and grabbed his hips. He dragged his cock out slightly before pushing back in, then started thrusting, short, fast snaps of his hips. Crowley could feel his stomach shift as Aziraphale fucked into him, each thrust sending a shockwave through him. He moaned softly as Aziraphale used him for his pleasure. A short while later, he leaned forward, cupping a hand around the demon’s stretched stomach, and coming inside him with a shout. His whole body tensed and sparked as his seed erupted into the demon below him, willing and wanting. Aziraphale pulled out slowly, his cock over sensitive, and collapsed on the bed as shivering tingles ran up and down his spine. Crowley lay down next to him and smiled at the blissed out angel. “Did you have a good time?”

“That was amazing, darling. Oh! I’m sorry, you haven’t, um...” Aziraphale trailed off, and Crowley thought it was adorable that he still had trouble saying those certain words, even though he’d just fed him almost to bursting and then fucked him. 

“Don’t worry about it, angel,” said Crowley. He recovered the jar of salve and slicked up his hand before wrapping his fingers around his cock and thrusting up into his fist a few times before he came as well. Aziraphale’s eyes were glued on his face as he came, drinking in the expression of rapture on his sharp features. Crowley snapped his fingers, cleaning his hand, and turned to kiss Aziraphale once again. 

“You probably have to get going soon,” said Aziraphale in a small voice.

“Technically, I’m expected back at Mrs. L’s. But my dance card for the evening has just miraculously cleared, so, you know.” Crowley smiled wryly. 

“Well, there we have it, I suppose,” said Aziraphale, not-so-secretly thrilled. Crowley wiggled himself under the covers, pulling them up around the two of them. Aziraphale turned out the lamps with a wave of his hand and pulled him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's particularly into food/feeding kink, were the descriptions of the food and eating hot? I can't tell lol. I normally go for different kinds of stuffing, if you know what I mean. ;) What am I saying, of course you know what I mean


	3. Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a client fails to satisfy Crowley, he goes to visit his angel. Aziraphale suggests that Crowley manifest a cunt, and proceeds to enthusiastically pleasure him several times in a row.

Crowley arched his back, fisting his hands in the sheets and gasping as the man fucked him into the bed. Simon brushed his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Crowley’s head was pillowed in his lap, and Simon could feel the force of the man’s thrusts, transferred to him as Crowley rocked back and forth. Simon hooked a foot under one of Crowley’s, or as he knew him, Damien’s knees and pulled his legs further apart. 

“Oh, you’re fucking him so well, sir,” crooned Simon. He ran his hands up and down Crowley’s chest, pausing to flick his nipples. Crowley whined high in his throat and wrapped his legs around the man, putting on a show. He was attractive enough, but a selfish lover; he was snapping his hips roughly, his thrusts short and animalistic. He’d paid for the both of them, and Simon had been mostly sitting there, which was certainly unusual. Simon locked eyes with the man and licked his lips. 

“Will you come inside him, sir? Or turn him into a painted whore?” Simon panted, curling his fingers in Crowley’s hair and pulling his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. The man pulled out and started fisting his cock before coming across Crowley’s stomach with a groan. Simon swept his fingers through the come, licking it off his fingers slowly, lewdly. 

“Will that be all, sir?” said Crowley, staring up at the ceiling, his chest heaving. He used to be more satisfied with this kind of thing. And Simon was here, so he couldn’t even do any proper Tempting. 

“Yes, that’ll be all,” said the man, turning away to dress himself. Simon rang a little bell that rested on the bedside table, and a few moments later, Mrs. L knocked at the door, opening it without waiting for a response. 

“All finished? Did you play nicely, boys?” she said, quietly concerned. And she meant it, too, even if it was wrapped up in the playful language their patrons expected. Crowley nodded. He supposed it hadn’t been a complete waste, but it wasn’t like he needed the money. 

“It was perfectly delightful, Mrs. L,” Simon purred, arching his back. 

“Then allow me to see you out, and we’ll attend to the matter of your payment,” she said, smiling at the man. The man, now dressed, followed her out, and Simon relaxed suddenly from his provocative pose as soon as the door shut. 

“Well. He wasn’t very... talented, was he? He paid for two whores and didn’t make either one of us cum.”

“I suppose not,” laughed Crowley. “Would you like to help each other finish? You could fuck me.”

“For free? Not very good business practice, Damien.”

“As my valued colleague,” Crowley began stuffily, putting on airs and intellectually stroking an imaginary beard. “I think, given that you’re a skilled connoisseur of buggery—” Simon burst out laughing.

“Well, I won’t say no to such a kind offer,” he said, patting Crowley’s cheek. He climbed off and walked around to the foot of the bed where he ran his hands up and down Crowley’s legs. Crowley used a little demonic power to tighten himself. Simon pulled off his last layer of clothing and stroked his own cock a few times before gently pressing himself into him. Crowley hissed at the stretch. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the feeling of being split open like that. Loved the feeling of too much, too fast, loved being filled. “Christ, you feel amazing, Damien. No wonder you’re so popular. Not to mention your acting skills,” he said with a wink. Simon started fucking him slowly, deeply, and it felt a lot nicer than the fucking he’d just gotten from their client. But it wasn’t... right. It wasn’t enough. 

Simon hitched one of Crowley’s legs over his shoulder and leaned forward, planting his hands on the bed and fucking him harder. Crowley could feel himself warming and clenching around Simon’s cock. He tried to lose himself in the sensations, but his mind wouldn’t stop going in circles. Simon reached up to pinch and flick his nipples, grinding against his prostate, then brought his hands down to stroke his cock. Crowley came, underwhelmingly, his breath hitching, his seed mixing with the client’s on his stomach. It was cooling swiftly, and he curled a lip at the sensation. It still wasn’t enough. He needed something different—he needed more. Simon sat down next to him on the bed and stroked himself until he came, moaning prettily. He collapsed into a lounging position and looked over, smiling lazily at him. 

“Thanks, Damien,” he said. 

“Yeah, no problem,” said Crowley. He stood, his knees watery, and shuffled to the dresser, which had a basin of water and a washcloth on it. He cleaned himself off and rolled his shoulders, cracking his back. He went to the wardrobe and started dressing himself in his real clothes, not the barely-there silk robes they were meant to wear in the sitting rooms. He was antsy, full of coiled tension and restless energy.

“Are you sneaking out to see your Mr. Fell again?” said Simon, rolling over to look at him. Crowley froze, trousers half on. 

“I wouldn’t call it sneaking. I don’t have any more appointments tonight,” he said, snippily. Not that it was much of a retort. He _was_ going to see Aziraphale, after all. 

“You’re not falling for him, are you? You _know_ that’s dangerous, Damien. Gentlemen never keep their promises. It’s not like he’s going to move away with you to live happily ever after. When he gets bored of you, he’ll just marry some woman so the neighbors won’t talk and forget all about you.”

“He’s—It’s not like that, Simon,” said Crowley, turning away to keep dressing. “He knew me before I became a whore, and he will know me after I retire from being a whore. I know what I’m doing.” It felt like his skin was trying to crawl off him, and there was a buzzing in his mind that wouldn’t quiet down. 

“He’ll break any heart you have left. They always do,” said Simon, smiling bitterly. Crowley settled his dark glasses on his aquiline nose. 

“No. Not him,” he said firmly and left, slamming the door after him. 

* * *

The bookshop had been closed for hours, and Aziraphale was curled up in his flat, rereading a favorite book and nursing a glass of whiskey. It burned pleasantly in his throat, but he choked on it as he heard the sounds of someone opening the front door. He set down his drink and the book. It was probably Crowley. But what if it wasn’t? He usually visited earlier in the day, and surely he was busy plying his trade at this time of night. It could be a murderer. Or worse, someone who wanted to harm his books. He crept out of his living room and down the stairs, trembling slightly. Step by step, his stockinged feet making no noise on the carpeted steps. There was a figure by the door, wrapped in darkness. He snapped his fingers, miraculously illuminating the room. The figure startled and spun around. It was Crowley. Of course it was Crowley. There had been no need to worry. 

“Oh, Crowley! What a surprise. I’m sorry, my darling. I thought you might be an intruder,” said Aziraphale sheepishly. Crowley scoffed, locking the door behind him and striding across the room. 

“An intruder who unlocked the door instead of breaking a window?” he said, smirking.

“Well, I don’t know!” said Aziraphale, flapping his hands. “I got worried is all. It’s late.” Crowley nodded sagely. 

“It is late.”

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you normally, uh... working at this hour?” Aziraphale said, turning to lead the way back upstairs and extinguishing the light. Crowley fell into step behind him. 

“I was working, but I’m... hungry,” he growled.

“Oh! Would you like me to whip something up? I found a new recipe I’ve been wanting to—” Aziraphale started, turning toward the kitchen. Crowley stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. 

“Not that kind of hunger, angel,” he gasped, pulling Aziraphale around and pressing close to him, his facade of self-restraint slipping rapidly. A moment longer and he would have been begging shamelessly.

“Oh,” he said softly, before Crowley kissed him, hard and desperate. Crowley pressed his tongue into his mouth with little preamble and wound his arms around him, holding tightly. Aziraphale patted his arm, a signal to pause. “Is something the matter, dear?” he said breathlessly as he pulled back. Crowley whimpered. 

“Nothing’s the matter, I just...” he whined, tugging at Aziraphale’s coat. 

“What is it, pet?” he said, more insistently. 

“It wasn’t enough! They’re not enough. Please, angel.” said Crowley, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Tell me what you need, Crowley,” he said, gently but firmly. 

“I need _you_ , I need to be filled, b—but not just...” Crowley trailed off and tugged at Aziraphale’s coat again, whimpering, as though willing him to understand. 

“Go on, dear heart,” murmured Aziraphale, stroking his head and down his back. 

“Not so fast. And not just once. I need you to fill me with your love,” Crowley whispered. Aziraphale shuddered slightly at that, feeling himself getting hard. He’d be more than happy to spread Crowley out on his bed and show him in great detail just how much he was loved. Aziraphale kissed him, slowly and softly. 

“I’ll take care of you, Crowley. Don’t fret,” he murmured. Crowley breathed in deeply, shakily, and draped himself over Aziraphale. He began to undress him, gently pushing and pulling the cloth until Crowley stood naked before him. The incidental brushes of Aziraphale’s fingers against him felt like meteors trailing fire across his skin, and he pressed himself close, letting Aziraphale’s calming scent—old books, sweet cream, jasmine, and a deeper note of something metallic—wrap around him like a blanket. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale ran a hand up and down the curve of his spine. 

“I missed you too, darling, but it’s barely been a week. Are you sure you’re alright?” he murmured. 

“I will be, just... Just keep touching me, angel.”

“Of course, Crowley. Of course,” said Aziraphale, leaning down slightly to pick him up bridal style, one arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees. “Bedroom?”

“Please,” said Crowley, wrapping his arms around his neck and burrowing his face into his jacket. 

Aziraphale gently set him down on the bed and pulled back slightly to undress himself. Crowley whined at this and wrapped his wiry arms around the angel, making it rather harder for him to take his clothes off. He managed it though, moving Crowley’s hands to his waist while he took off his shirt and to his chest while he unbuttoned his trousers. Aziraphale sat cross-legged on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard. Crowley insinuated himself into his lap, wrapping his legs around his waist. 

“You’re so precious to me, my darling,” Aziraphale said, reaching up to put his hands on Crowley’s shoulders. Crowley sighed and rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s, closing his eyes. Aziraphale started to knead and rub the taut muscles of his neck and shoulder, letting the warmth of his hands help him relax. “Really, you mean the world to me, Crowley.” Aziraphale said, bringing his hands up to rub his scalp and detangle his hair, and Crowley found himself beginning to melt in his angel’s arms, the frantic hum in his brain starting to quiet. He tilted his head to kiss Aziraphale, licking into his mouth and tasting hints of whiskey. 

“So beautiful, dearest. All the different styles you wear, always so beautiful for me. My dazzling serpent,” said Aziraphale between kissing Crowley on his lips, his jaw, his neck. Crowley puffed himself up at this. Let him be proud, he deserved it. He deserved everything. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s erection through his pants and wiggled in his lap, trying to press them impossibly closer. Aziraphale gasped slightly. “And so wickedly clever, aren’t you? Absolutely dastardly.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Crowley nodded, recapturing his lips. Aziraphale let his hands settle on Crowley’s hips, brushing his thumbs across the jutting bones as they kissed. 

“And so brave, always forging your own path. You’re no being’s servant, no one’s follower. I... I admire that about you, Crowley. I’m not so courageous as you,” said Aziraphale softly as Crowley nuzzled into his neck. He hummed, but whether it was in agreement or complaint, Aziraphale couldn’t tell. Crowley hadn’t let him talk like this before, and he was going to make the most of it. 

“I’m not actually a renegade, angel,” muttered Crowley. “I do follow orders when I get them.”

“I suppose so, but you’re always stretching the truth in your reports, not to mention the Arrangement. And you do get creative when left to your own devices, don’t you, my dear?”

“Well, yes,” said Crowley, embarrassed. 

“On your back for me, dearest,” said Aziraphale, shifting out of the way. Crowley lay down, blushing slightly from the praise. Aziraphale did nothing for a moment, simply gazing at him with eyes full of love. 

“Yeah?” teased Crowley, running a hand up his own chest and smirked at his angel. Aziraphale straddled his hips and began running his hands up and down his chest.

“Just as I told you before, Crowley, I enjoy looking at you. Too many times over the centuries I made myself look away, left myself wanting more.” said Aziraphale, still looking at him, letting the full force of his gaze pin Crowley to the bed. Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and pressed a kiss to knuckles.

“Angel, I would redraw the constellations for you,” said Crowley, his voice catching in his throat. 

“I’m sure you would, my darling, but hush. Tonight is about you,” said Aziraphale tenderly, patting his cheek. Crowley pouted dramatically. 

“Are you saying you don’t want to hear the florid soliloquy I prepared? I’m wounded.”

“Another day, my beloved, I’ll lay with you in the shade of a great tree, and you can spend all afternoon spinning your enchanting words,” murmured Aziraphale, pressing kisses down his chest. “You know, you’re so worthy of praise, Crowley. You deserve so much.” Crowley closed his eyes and shook his head, splaying his wine-red hair across the pillow. “Yes you are, my darling. Determined and clever, and so, so brave. You probably wouldn’t want to be an angel again, but you didn’t deserve to Fall just for asking questions.” Crowley looked up at him, eyes wide. “And I’m sorry, my dearest. I’m sorry you were cast out, I’m sorry you were abandoned. I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale sniffed, lacing his fingers together with Crowley’s.

“W—wasn’t your fault,” said Crowley softly. “It was inevitable. I... I’ve never been good at loyalty or—or obedience.”

“Maybe so. But you... you don’t belong with... the others. You’re too... too good. You didn’t deserve—” Aziraphale broke off, his voice catching in his throat. “It wasn’t _fair_ , it wasn’t _right_ .” His eyes shone with tears, and it nearly broke Crowley’s heart. His angel was achingly tender, so _good,_ so kindhearted that the world didn’t deserve him.

“Aziraphale, I...” Crowley trailed off, not trusting himself to speak. 

“It wasn’t _fair_ ,” he repeated impotently as the tears overflowed and ran down his cheeks. 

“Please don’t cry, angel. I—I’m not...” Not worth any tears, not worth any sympathy, not worth the love and light of an angel, of Aziraphale. 

“I—if you say n—not worth it, I—I shall smite you myself,” said Aziraphale, sniffing again. Crowley snapped his mouth shut. He rested his hands on his thighs, hoping the touch would be calming. 

“It’s alright, Aziraphale. Really it is. I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it. And besides. I... I’m not alone,” said Crowley, trying to smile. 

“That’s true. But still. It wasn’t fair,” said Aziraphale, rubbing his eyes. 

“I know, angel. I know,” he said, patting his leg. But he hadn’t though about it like that before. If it had been fair or not. It had been Her decision—fairness didn’t come into it. He miraculously produced a handkerchief and passed it to Aziraphale, who pressed the cloth to his eyes, his breaths starting to even out. 

“Okay, I’m alright now,” he said a minute or two later, tossing the handkerchief off the side of the bed.

“Glad to hear it,” murmured Crowley, kissing his cheek. Aziraphale turned his head and kissed him on the lips, a gentle union of their vessels that was incapable of communicating what they truly shared. Crowley rested his hand on Aziraphale’s neck, and Aziraphale gripped his arm, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Crowley hummed in delight as he brushed his hands down his chest, his cock beginning to stir once more. “Sure you’re ready to continue? We could just stop,” he said, resting his hands on his hips, his thumbs stroking the soft skin of Aziraphale’s stomach. 

“I’d like to keep going, if that’s alright,” said Aziraphale shyly. 

“Oh, it’s more than alright, angel,” Crowley grinned, reaching down to grip his butt. Aziraphale leaned down and licked at one of his nipples, pressing his tongue flat against it before pulling back and blowing a stream of cool air over the spit-wet skin. Crowley shivered, his hands flying to grip Aziraphale’s shoulders. He smiled to himself and moved to the other nipple, sucking gently and just grazing the hard nub with his teeth. Long moments passed as Aziraphale lavished his attentions on Crowley’s chest. He arched his back and moaned brokenly, his breath hitching in his throat whenever Aziraphale used his teeth. Crowley’s cock was hard and leaking on his stomach, and he rut his hips against him. 

“Please,” he gasped, his nails scrabbling against Aziraphale’s back. 

“Now, dearest, you mentioned wanting to be... to be fucked more than once, and I wonder if you wanted make a different effort? From what I’ve heard, that might ease the process,” he murmured, kissing along his collarbone. “It would allow you to abandon the refractory period for the most part.”

“Aziraphale, you’re a genius,” said Crowley, smiling at him only slightly sardonically. Aziraphale scooted backwards to sit between his legs. Crowley concentrated for a moment, and his cock was replaced with a wet quim surrounded by auburn curls. Aziraphale groaned quietly at the sight, and Crowley pulled his legs up, giving him a better view. Aziraphale gently reached down and ran a finger along the wet seam of his pussy lips, forcing the slightest gasp from his kiss-red mouth. Aziraphale licked his lips, transfixed, not looking him in the face but rather spreading him open and teasing at his hole. Crowley whined. 

“You’re so _wet_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale said in amazement. 

“Oh, you’ve never played with a cunt before, have you, angel?” said Crowley, propping himself up on his elbows. “Do you need some instructions? Some tips?” he teased.

“I know how it works,” pouted Aziraphale, frowning sweetly. He dragged a thumb over his clit, and Crowley gasped most gratifyingly. “See?”

“I do see,” said Crowley, rather strained. “Now, won’t you please fuck me?” Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and his drawers disappeared, revealing his flushed cock. 

“Will I need any, um, lubrication?” said Aziraphale as Crowley adjusted his position in preparation. 

“Not when I'm _so_ wet for you,” he purred, using two fingers to spread himself open, his arousal glistening in the candle light as he parted his lips. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Crowley. You... you can’t just _say_ things like that,” muttered Aziraphale, taking a hold of his shaft. A drip of precum threatened to fall from the head of his cock, and he let it smear across his fingers as he guided the tip up and down Crowley’s slit, making him whimper in desperation.

“Angel, I’ve already said please,” he whined, removing his hand from his mound and grasping at Aziraphale’s soft thigh. Aziraphale licked his lips, then pressed himself into his silky wet heat. He moaned and leaned forward, curling himself so that he ended up nose to nose with Crowley. 

“Ohhh, darling, you feel so good,” he whimpered, his face twisted in pleasure. Crowley wiggled his hips and smirked as he thrust slightly. “But I forget myself. Does it feel nice for you? How can I make it better?” Aziraphale whispered, caressing Crowley’s nipples with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Crowley shivered. Perhaps he’d been playing at being a whore for too long; he was unused to his partner genuinely caring about his pleasure. Many of his clients wanted to think they were pleasing him, but for them it was just an ego boost, a confirmation of their sexual prowess. But not Aziraphale. Aziraphale was different. He’d always been different. 

“Could you... could you, um...” Crowley trailed off. What did he want? He wanted to make Aziraphale feel good. 

“Go on, dear,” he said tenderly, rocking his hips slowly. 

“Could you... make... make it bigger?” Crowley whispered haltingly, as though admitting to a desire could be dangerous. 

“Anything for you, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, smiling at him beatifically. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Crowley felt the hot, hard cock inside him grow longer, and blessedly thicker. He whined and clamped down around Aziraphale’s cock, which was stretching him, filling him, spreading him wide and wanting. “And how would you like it? Slow or fast?”

“Fast, f-for now,” stuttered Crowley, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale kissed him on the tip of his nose, then drew his cock out before slamming it back in. Crowley moaned in ecstasy, and Aziraphale began thrusting again, going hard and deep. The sound of skin slapping against skin fill the room along with wet little noises from Crowley’s cunt as it greedily took in Aziraphale’s shaft. He was keeping himself tight despite his growing arousal, and Aziraphale had to put in more effort than was normal to pull out at each thrust, as though his body was loathe to be empty, even for a moment. He let out a string of moans as Aziraphale’s cock pressed against that certain spot inside him. It was electric, and Crowley could feel himself pulling taut like a bowstring. Aziraphale moved his leg to brace himself and slipped a hand between them to press and rub Crowley’s clit. Crowley moaned in response, dragging his nails down Aziraphale’s back and thrashing his head against the pillow. 

“So good for me, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, breathless. 

“Fuck, angel, please, I’m close,” said Crowley through gritted teeth. Aziraphale sped up his ministrations to Crowley’s clitoris until he came. His whole body tensed, and he clenched around the angel’s cock, his toes curling in pleasure as sparks suffused his groin. Aziraphale kissed him through it, gently pulling his cock out. Crowley whimpered as he did, every touch against the lips of his cunt feeling like an iron brand. Aziraphale rested a hand on his chest. 

“Feeling alright, dearest?” he murmured.

“Mmm. Mm-hmm,” hummed Crowley, unable to marshal any further response. Aziraphale smiled to himself and gave a self-satisfied wiggle. 

“Well, let me know when you’re ready to go again,” said Aziraphale, pressing a kiss to his chest. He trailed his hand up and down Crowley’s side and sat up, tucking his legs under him. He took one of his hands and gently kneaded his thumbs into Crowley’s palm, pressing a kiss to each of his fingertips. He repeated the process with his other hand, gently placing them onto Crowley’s chest when he was finished. Crowley cracked his eyes open and smiled softly. 

“ ’M ready,” he said. Aziraphale smiled back at him. 

“There’s my good boy,” he said, and Crowley bit his lip, feeling his cunt throb at his words. Aziraphale knelt between his legs, spreading them apart once more. His cock was still hard, absolutely dripping with it, but he ignored it for now. Aziraphale bowed his golden head and licked a broad stripe up Crowley’s wet cunt, spreading his labia to lick into him, then favoring his clitoris with the curling tip of his tongue. Crowley gasped, his thighs tensing, and he wound his fingers into his angel’s curls. He was more sensitive than usual from his recent orgasm, and it was almost too much, but he still wanted more.

“You taste... ambrosial, my darling,” said Aziraphale in wonderment, before burrowing his face back between his legs, licking him again and again. Crowley’s breath caught in his throat, and he let out little cries of pleasure as Aziraphale pleasured him. He dipped his tongue into Crowley’s hole, his nose pressing against his clit. He started fucking his tongue into him shallowly, drooling copiously. Crowley pressed himself closer, crossing his legs around Aziraphale’s shoulders and arching his back. 

“D—didn’t know you were so good at this sort of thing,” he gasped, trembling slightly. Aziraphale looked up from his task. 

“Beginner’s luck, I suppose, dearest,” he said with a smile. “Or perhaps my tendency to indulge in food has given me a talented tongue.” Crowley rolled his eyes, unable to stop an answering smile from spreading across his face. Aziraphale brought a hand up to stroke Crowley’s clit. “Did you know that during fetal development, the clitoris—”

“Angel. If you don’t stop talking this instant, I shall get up out of this bed, put on my clothes, and leave,” said Crowley. Aziraphale tilted his head and nodded as though saying ‘fair enough.’ He once again applied his tongue to the soft folds in front of him while resuming the motion of his hand. Crowley tensed and squirmed under his attentions, and his moans grew louder. Aziraphale slipped a few fingers into him, rubbing his inner walls until he found a spot inside him that elicited quite the reaction. 

“Feels nice?” he said. Crowley nodded desperately, his lips pressed together, and Aziraphale crooked his fingers in a come-hither motion. Crowley gasped, and Aziraphale sped up the motion of his hand, fucking his fingers into him and tonguing his clit. Crowley moaned and whimpered, little hitches of his breath providing a subdued syncopation to his sounds of pleasure. “You’re so beautiful like this, darling. So delicate in your ecstasy,” said Aziraphale. Crowley whined, and Aziraphale thrust his hand in and pressed continuously against his inner walls, at the same time grinding his thumb over his clitoris. Crowley curled forward, his stomach tensing almost unbearably for a moment as he came. He collapsed back onto the bed, breathing hard. Aziraphale slowly removed his fingers, giving his clit a last lick. Crowley gasped slightly at this, and Aziraphale rearranged his legs, vacating his spot kneeling between them. Crowley brought his attention back from the ceiling and noticed Aziraphale sitting beside him, licking the moisture off his fingers. 

“For... someone’s sake, angel,” he murmured. 

“Oh, how rude of me not to share,” said Aziraphale, something devilish twinkling in his blue eyes. “Would you like to taste yourself, darling?” He held his fingers in front of his mouth. Crowley swallowed, mustering himself. He’d never thought Aziraphale capable of this kind of thing. He let his lips part, and Aziraphale slipped his fingers inside. Crowley sucked on them languidly. His cunt tasted about the way it smelled, no surprises there. He licked between his fingers, and Aziraphale pressed his fingers deeper, just until he felt the resistance at the back of his mouth, then drew his fingers out, subtly wiping the saliva onto the bedsheets. He leaned down to kiss him, tenderly licking into his mouth. 

“You’re amazing.” 

“You are the amazing one, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, smiling at him fondly. Crowley made a grabbing motion with this hands, and Aziraphale lay down next to him, pressing their bodies together. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and kissed him, feeling his hardness against his thigh. He brought a hand up to stroke him, but Aziraphale grabbed his wrist surprisingly firmly. “How many times must I remind you, dearest? This evening’s activities are all for you. It’s my turn to make you feel good.” Crowley bit his lip. 

“I want to make you feel good too,” he said quietly. 

“I do feel good, Crowley. Seeing you like this, knowing that I’m the one giving you such pleasure,” said Aziraphale between kissing him. Crowley looked away. Could he let himself receive so much attention? So much... love? “Ready for another?” Crowley nodded. “And how would you like it, dearest? How can I pleasure you?” 

“Could... could I ride you?” said Crowley softly.

“Of course you may, darling,” said Aziraphale, kissing him once more. Crowley sat up, flexing his back and shoulders to encourage the blood flow to return to his tired muscles. He straddled Aziraphale, who grasped his hard cock and put a hand on his hip, tenderly guiding him. He sank down onto Aziraphale’s long, thick cock, prepared specially for him. He hummed to himself, savoring the feeling of being filled so thoroughly. “So gorgeous,” Aziraphale whispered, not wanting to break him out of his reverie. Crowley adjusted himself until he was satisfied that he’d be able to move freely, then pulled himself up and almost off Aziraphale’s cock before letting himself back down, his cunt opening greedily. He braced himself, his hands against Aziraphale’s soft chest, and started slowly bouncing on his cock. Aziraphale tilted his hips up on each downstroke, biting his lip as his shaft was enveloped by Crowley’s tight, wet pussy. 

“Fuck, yes,” Crowley whined, throwing his head back. 

“So good for me, Crowley dearest,” said Aziraphale, his hands at his hips. Crowley sat himself down and started undulating his hips, waves of motion curling his sinewy form like a bellydancer. But after a few moments he slowed to a stop. “Is everything alright?” asked Aziraphale, full of concern.

“I’m tired,” Crowley pouted. Aziraphale smiled up at him. 

“Is that so?”

“It is! I already came twice.”

“And what would you like to do instead of this?” said Aziraphale, patting him on the hip. 

“I want you to fuck me again,” said Crowley. He stood up on his knees, hissing as Aziraphale’s cock slipped out, and sat on the bed. Aziraphale shifted away from the center of the bed, and Crowley knelt there, folding himself over so that his legs were tucked under him, his chest supported by his elbows, sticking his ass in the air and arching his back beautifully. He looked over his shoulder at him coyly, smiling. Aziraphale stroked and kneaded his ass cheeks, then spread his legs wider, exposing his wet cunt. 

“Slow or fast?” he said, repeating his question from earlier. 

“Slowly, please. And, uh. Could you make it a little thicker too?” Crowley said, wiggling his hips. 

“And that won’t, er, hurt you?” said Aziraphale cautiously. Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Who’s the expert here?” he said, smirking and raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, you are, my darling. But I happen to know you’re not always careful with yourself,” he said seriously. Crowley deflated somewhat. There was no need for bravado, not with Aziraphale. 

“I’m fairly certain it won’t hurt me, but I’ll tell you if it starts to, alright?” 

“Very well then,” said Aziraphale, smiling softly. He concentrated for a moment, making his already enhanced cock even thicker. He took his hardness in his hand and slowly pressed it inside Crowley in one smooth thrust. Crowley cried out in pleasure, his hands gripping the sheets. He was being filled so marvelously, stretched and stuffed, his body molding to the angel’s cock. Aziraphale licked his lips, breathing deeply to avoid coming too soon. Crowley’s cunt tensed and fluttered around his cock, so tight, so slick.

“Fuck, angel, please,” gasped Crowley. Aziraphale pulled out slightly and pressed back in torturously slowly. Crowley moaned, and Aziraphale began thrusting into him, holding his hips in place with a gentle but insistent grip. Crowley continued moaning, luxuriating in the feeling of being so thoroughly invaded, so despoiled. Aziraphale reached a hand around to stroke his clit, and Crowley curled in on himself with a whine. 

“Faster, more, please,” he whimpered, straightening his arms to brace himself against the bed. Aziraphale obliged him, snapping his hips in and out faster, feeling his orgasm start to build.

“Oh! Oh, Crowley, I’m about to—” he gasped, sheathing himself inside him and spilling his seed. Crowley came at the same time, whining high in his throat, then gently batted Aziraphale’s hand away from his mound as he continued to rub his clitoris. Aziraphale pulled out tenderly and lay down with a sigh. Crowley curled up next to him, wiping some drool from his face. 

“God, angel, you fuck me so much better than anyone I’ve had before,” he murmured, wrapping his slender limbs around Aziraphale. He smiled at him, stroking his hair. 

“Thank you, my darling,” he said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Crowley turned his effort back into a cock and kissed him back. 

“Now your spend is trapped inside me, angel. Your essence becoming part of me,” he hissed, smirking. 

“Crowley, that’s... obscene,” said Aziraphale, somewhat reproachfully, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like the sound of that. 

“ _I’m_ obscene, angel, it’s what I do. Wanton and wicked. Utterly profane,” he said, burrowing his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, holding him so tenderly. 

“Of course you are, darling,” he whispered, waving a hand to turn the lights off. He pulled the blankets up over them and lay next to him as he drifted off to sleep. 


	4. Exposed (dubcon warning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter has some consent issues, and a threesome with Gabriel

The archangel Gabriel appeared on Earth in a flash of light and straightened his coat. He was dressed simply but richly in soft grays and lavenders, and he preened for a moment, examining his reflection in a dirty puddle before striding out of the alley. His expensive leather shoes clicked on the cobblestones, and he breathed in deeply. Ah, yes. The smell of sin, of debauchery. It took constant vigilance on Heaven’s part to bring this sort of human back from the clutches of Hell. That was, of course, why Gabriel was here, and _not_ because he’d found a human custom he actually enjoyed. Who knew sex was pleasurable? He usually blessed them afterwards, just in case anyone asked what he’d been doing down there, so technically, he was doing his job. He still didn’t understand Aziraphale’s penchant for food, but to each his own. Gabriel peered at a handwritten notice tacked to a door and knocked loudly. A middle aged woman in a revealing dress opened the door to him, smiling at him as he stepped inside. 

“Good evening, sir. Can I interest you in an evening’s entertainment?” she said in a suggestive tone of voice, closing the door behind him. 

“Yes, I’m here for sex,” said Gabriel, smiling back at her, wider than was necessary. There was a long moment of silence. 

“Right, yes,” said the woman, somewhat taken aback. She told him how much it would cost, and he miraculously produced the money from a coat pocket. “Right, just head on up the stairs and knock on one of the doors. Unless you have any specific requests?” Gabriel shrugged. “Oh, and any doors with a ribbon are unavailable.” Gabriel thanked her, climbed up the stairs and looked up and down the hallway. Several of the doors had red ribbons tied in bows stuck to them, and moans drifted out into the hallway. The door closest to him had a ribbon tacked to it, along with a piece of card that read ‘Damien.’ He heard a voice filtered through the door that sounded... familiar? 

“Ohhh, yes, faster, just like that!” said the man. Yes, there was no mistaking it. Aziraphale was stationed nearby, it wasn’t impossible. 

“Aziraphale?” said Gabriel, opening the door. 

Aziraphale shrieked and pulled the sheets over Crowley and up to his chest. Crowley had been riding him, splayed across his chest to lick his nipples as he bounced on his cock. They had both gone stock still, their hearts hammering in their chests, fear turning their shared heat to ice.

“Gabriel? What the Heaven are _you_ doing _here_?” Aziraphale managed, praying that Gabriel couldn’t tell just who was under the sheets with him. Gabriel closed the door behind him, smiling curiously. 

“Just here to save some tarnished souls, turn them back toward God, of course,” he said, as though this was a perfectly normal situation. Crowley and Aziraphale surreptitiously separated themselves under the covers.

“Right. Um,” said Aziraphale, wondering if he could claim to be doing the same thing. “Me too?” He could feel Crowley shift slightly on top of him, in fear or amusement, he didn’t know.

“Having a little fun first though?” said Gabriel, grinning. He threw up his hands. “Don’t worry, me too. I won’t tell if you won’t!” He laughed, snapping his fingers and sauntering over towards the bed. Aziraphale forced himself to laugh at Gabriel’s non-joke and brought his arms around Crowley, protectively, keeping him carefully covered in the sheet. It seemed a paltry defense against an archangel. Crowley was keeping himself from trembling only with a great effort. If he was discovered, Aziraphale would surely Fall, and if Aziraphale made a poor angel, he would make a worse demon. He forced himself to breath deeply, his breath brushing against Aziraphale’s skin as the afternoon light filtered into their private little world.

“Mind if I take a look?” said Gabriel, raising his eyebrows and taking a hold of the bottom of the sheet. 

“Uh,” said Aziraphale, unable to decide what to say. What would happen if he said no? Would Gabriel suspect something? Gabriel lifted the sheet and folded it over Crowley’s back, exposing his legs and ass. 

“Oooh, very nice,” said Gabriel in a congratulatory tone of voice. He pulled the two of them toward the edge of the bed, licking his lips in anticipation. Crowley felt large, warm hands land on his buttocks and spread him apart. His freshly fucked hole winked at Gabriel, wet with oil. He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood. He had to stay quiet, no matter what happened. Gabriel reached through his legs to cup his balls, then stroke his dripping, hard cock. “Very nice indeed,” he added, stroking a thumb down Crowley’s perineum. Crowley tensed, his breath catching in his throat. This was dangerous, but Gabriel had clearly done this before. Since when was he interested in sex? 

“Th-thank you?” stuttered Aziraphale. Gabriel snapped, summoning lubrication to his fingers, and slipped them into Crowley’s hole, humming appreciatively. Crowley arched back into the touch, unable to stop himself as his long fingers split him open. Truth be told, the danger was only stoking his desire as it burned in his belly. 

“Oh, someone likes it!” said Gabriel, smiling as he twisted his fingers and pressed against his inner walls, searching, seeking, finding. Crowley gasped quietly and pushed back, trying to fuck himself on Gabriel’s skillful fingers. He smacked his ass with his free hand, and Crowley gasped again, louder, at the prickling sting. “Naughty boy, Damien. You’ll take what’s given to you,” he said, his voice filled with quiet authority. Crowley bit his lip. 

“Gabriel, ah...” started Aziraphale nervously, his blue eyes flicking back and forth. 

“Oh, do you mind?” said Gabriel, casually, as if he were asking to use Aziraphale’s favorite pen. 

“Uh,” he started. Crowley stroked his chest reassuringly. “I don’t think, uh, Damien minds.” Aziraphale couldn’t believe him! The recklessness, the audacity! It was somewhat thrilling, he supposed, but still. 

“Perfect!” smiled Gabriel, sliding a third finger into the eager body beneath him. Crowley let out a whimper and tentatively rubbed his flushed cock against Aziraphale. Gabriel had no idea he was fingering a demon. Admittedly, Crowley had never had much loyalty to Hell, but still. “Wow,” murmured Gabriel. “Just look at that.” He pulled his fingers all the way out for a moment, and Crowley’s hole gaped wantonly, slick and red. He whined and wiggled his hips, and Gabriel slipped his fingers back into him with a smirk. 

“I, uh, understand he’s very popular,” said Aziraphale, his cock growing hard again as Crowley rutted against him. 

“Oh, I’m not surprised. He’s just begging to be filled, isn’t he?” said Gabriel, palming himself through his trousers. Crowley blushed and whined again, arching his back. He wanted to kiss Aziraphale, but he didn’t dare emerge from the sheets, so he contented himself with sucking a lovebite on his soft chest. Aziraphale caught his breath, clutching him closer. Gabriel licked his lips and reached down with his free hand, gently gripping Aziraphale’s erection. Aziraphale gasped in surprise and pleasure, bucking his hips up into his hand. Gabriel guided Aziraphale’s cock to Crowley’s hole, and he slid home with a sigh, gently thrusting a few times into the slick warmth. Crowley felt something else at his rim, gently probing deeper. Gabriel was sliding his fingers inside him, alongside Aziraphale’s cock. He whimpered, relishing the feeling of his hole being stretched. Gabriel unbuttoned his trousers, pushing them down far enough to free his straining cock. Aziraphale stared, transfixed, as Gabriel stroked himself, a drop of precum seeping down his hand. He’d given himself an unusually large cock, and if that wasn’t vanity, Aziraphale didn’t know what was. 

Gabriel pressed his weeping cockhead against Crowley’s hole, and after a moment of pressure, it popped inside. Crowley cried out breathlessly, loving the exquisite stretch, clinging to Aziraphale as Gabriel slowly fucked deeper and deeper into him. Eventually, he was filled to the brim with two angelic cocks, stretching him to his limits. Gabriel groaned as he thrust up to the hilt, laying a hand on Crowley’s back, holding him still as he began to thrust. Crowley couldn’t have made a sound if he wanted to, his mouth hung open on gasps of pleasure. He was drooling slightly onto Aziraphale chest, and Aziraphale began to thrust up into him as well, closing his eyes to avoid Gabriel’s piercing purple gaze. 

The velvety heat of Crowley’s tight hole and the drag of their cocks rubbing together had both Gabriel and Aziraphale desperately aroused, and Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s erection pressed against his ample stomach as they rocked back and forth into him. Crowley whined and panted as they established a rhythm, pounding into him in sequence so that he was never left empty. Gabriel began thrusting faster, curling his fingers into the sheet covering him and snapping his hips forcefully. He came with a groan, spilling inside Crowley and pulling down the sheet in his moment of ecstasy. His seed burned a little inside him, but there was no time to think of that. Gabriel opened his eyes and froze. The moment stretched as Crowley looked over his shoulder at the archangel, all of them frozen in shock or fear. Aziraphale cleared his throat. 

“W-we won’t tell if you won’t,” he managed, echoing Gabriel’s earlier statement. Gabriel drew himself up, clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath. He took a step back, his softening cock pulling out with a wet little noise. He tucked himself back into his trousers and snapped his fingers, his clothes righting themselves. 

“Was this your plan all along, demon?” he hissed, grabbing Crowley roughly by the hair. 

“No, actually. I wasn’t expecting you to pop in,” said Crowley in a mocking voice. 

“And you!” said Gabriel, releasing Crowley and stabbing his finger towards Aziraphale. “You knew!” Aziraphale pressed his lips together and spread his hands in a shrug. 

“Well, yes,” he said, sounding as though he had more to say. 

“Oh, this is a fucking nightmare,” groaned Gabriel, throwing up his hands and pacing around the room. “Alright, alright. _No one_ is to breathe a word of this to _anyone_. Do we have an understanding?” 

“Deal,” said Crowley, thinking perhaps this conversation should have been carried on without Aziraphale’s cock inside him, but it was too late for that. Aziraphale nodded. Gabriel looked surprised at Crowley’s acquiescence, then relieved. 

“Right. Well. I’ll just... leave you to it then. I might have to visit you two again though,” he said carefully, and disappeared with a metallic zipping sound. Crowley sagged against Aziraphale, giggling in relief. Aziraphale scowled at him. 

“Crowley, really! That was incredibly irresponsible, and—ahhhh.” Aziraphale’s speech was cut short by Crowley clenching around him and wiggling his hips. 

“That didn’t stop you from teaming up with him to fuck me,” murmured Crowley, running his hands feather-light up and down his sides. “Won’t you fuck me with his holy seed leaking out around your cock?” Aziraphale groaned and thrust up into him. “You do it so much better than he does,” Crowley added, sinuously moving his hips to push and pull Aziraphale’s cock in and out of his loosened hole. 

“Good Lord, Crowley. What ever am I going to do with you?” sighed Aziraphale, shifting position so he could more easily drive his cock into him. He wrapped his fingers around Crowley’s leaking cock and stroked it firmly. 

“Maybe you’ll have to punish me,” he panted. 

“Some other time, dearest,” said Aziraphale. He thrust into him a few more times, sharply, then came with a sigh. He stroked Crowley’s cock faster, then he came as well, whining as he spilled across Aziraphale’s stomach. He waved the mess away, tenderly pulled himself off Aziraphale’s oversensitive cock, and collapsed next to him. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he murmured, throwing a leg across him and resting his head on his arm. 

“We should be more careful in the future, darling,” said Aziraphale, worry creasing his brow. 

“I suppose. Might be a case of closing the barn door after the horses have fled,” said Crowley. Aziraphale hummed in response, uncertain. “Well, I don’t think he’ll tell anyone. If he does, he’d have to reveal that he fucked me too.” Aziraphale nodded slowly, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. He’d have to get up soon, but he could allow himself a few more minutes of indulgence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an alternate version of this chapter that gets rather darker, and I haven't decided if I want to finish it up and post it or not. Let me know if you have any thoughts on that


	5. Exposed (version 2, non-con warning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! Be super, extra warned, this is the second, darker version of the last chapter, and this one is more like non-con, heavy coercion etc, proceed with extreme caution !!
> 
> This fic can be understood fully without this chapter, feel free to skip it
> 
> The first two-ish paragraphs are the same, then they diverge

The archangel Gabriel appeared on Earth in a flash of light and straightened his coat. He was dressed simply but richly in soft grays and lavenders, and he preened for a moment, examining his reflection in a dirty puddle before striding out of the alley. His expensive shoes clicked on the cobblestones, and he breathed in deeply. Ah, yes. The smell of sin, of debauchery. It took constant vigilance on Heaven’s part to bring this sort of human back from the clutches of Hell. That was, of course, why Gabriel was here, and _not_ because he’d found a human custom he actually enjoyed. It was so delectable to have a human kneeling before him, servicing him. They were so temporary, so malleable. He usually blessed them afterwards, just in case anyone asked what he’d been doing down there, so technically, he was doing his job. He peered at a handwritten notice tacked to a door and knocked loudly. A middle aged woman in a revealing dress opened the door to him, smiling at him as he stepped inside. 

“Good evening, sir. Can I interest you in an evening’s entertainment?” she said in a suggestive tone of voice, closing the door behind him. 

“Yes, I’m here for sex,” said Gabriel, smiling back at her, wider than was necessary. There was a long moment of silence. 

“Right, yes,” said the woman, somewhat taken aback. She told him how much it would cost, and he miraculously produced the money from a coat pocket. “Right, just head on up the stairs and knock on one of the doors. Unless you have any specific requests?” Gabriel shook his head. “Oh, and any doors with a ribbon on the handle are unavailable.” Gabriel thanked her, climbed up the stairs and looked up and down the hallway. Several of the doors had red ribbons tied in bows stuck to them, and moans drifted out into the hallway. He shrugged to himself and knocked on the door closest to him. There was some cardstock on the door, with the name ‘Damien’ written on it. 

“Come on in, big boy,” called someone, presumably Damien, from behind the door. Gabriel opened it.

“Good Lord. It’s, you’re, um...” he trailed off and snapped his fingers, trying to remember. Crowley was frozen in his seductive pose on the bed, eyes wide with fear. “The demon Crawly!” said Gabriel. 

“It’s not Crawly, it’s Crowley. And it’s not Crowley, it’s Damien. And shut the door!” hissed Crowley, sitting up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. His silk robe had never felt more revealing. Gabriel closed the door behind him and shook his head in disbelief. 

“What are the odds? You know, I thought I smelled something evil, but I assumed it was just the odor of the whole neighborhood,” he said. 

“What the Hell are you doing here, Gabriel?” demanded Crowley.

“Obviously, I’m here to save some tarnished souls in danger of being lost to Hell. Think yours might be beyond even my expertise though,” he said with a scoff. Crowley rolled his eyes. Gabriel was dangerous, but he didn’t seem to be here to discorporate him. He slid off the bed and stood behind it, keeping it between them. Crowley wasn’t sure about the tarnished souls line either. He had sensed some desire from him, although it had dwindled while they were talking. Could that be right? Crowley was pretty sure Gabriel didn’t indulge in anything. 

There was a swish of air rushing outward, and then Aziraphale was standing there, smiling fit to beat the sun. 

“Crowley, dearest, I—” he stopped short with a frightened gasp, dropping the potted plant he was holding. It crashed to the floor, sending terracotta shards and dirt all over the thin carpet. He looked back and forth between the two of them, Crowley looking like he’d just been stabbed, Gabriel looking like he’d just received the best present of his life. 

“Aziraphale!” he said, gleefully scandalized. “Now, this is a new low. Fraternizing with a demon? And—oh. Ohhhh, you didn’t.” Aziraphale wrung his hands together, staring at the floor, his face a picture of despair. Crowley clenched his fists, his eyes darting back and forth. He probably couldn’t take Gabriel in a fight. Could he Tempt him? Would that make the situation better or worse? “You and he... Do you _love_ him?” said Gabriel incredulously, the smug bastard. Aziraphale didn’t say anything, but he made the briefest eye contact with Crowley. “Oh, that’s just _too_ precious. Our own hedonistic little disappointment in love with Hell’s darling. Who would have thought?”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Crowley growled, glaring daggers. 

“And does he...? This is even better! Oh, he doesn’t actually love you—demons aren’t capable of love,” he said with a wave of his hand. “But this adorable!” 

“Gabriel, please,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“And if I told _anyone,_ upstairs _or_ downstairs...” Gabriel licked his lips, a predatory glint in his lavender eyes. “Well, it just doesn’t bare thinking about,” he said, in a tone of voice that suggested very strongly that he was thinking about it. He rubbed his hands together delightedly. 

“Please,” repeated Aziraphale. 

“Of course, I might be... convinced to keep it to myself,” he said, shrugging. 

“I’ll do anything,” interjected Crowley, taking a step forward. 

“Oh, I know you would,” said Gabriel smugly. “Besides, I’ve already paid for you. But uh...” He turned to Aziraphale, raising his eyebrows in a question. 

“Anything,” muttered Aziraphale, not looking him in the face. 

“Perfect!” said Gabriel, clapping his hands together, an arrogant grin plastered across his face. Keeping his eyes on Aziraphale, he crooked his finger imperiously in a come-hither motion. Aziraphale swallowed, hard, and miserably shuffled over to him, wringing his hands. Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder, tilting his chin up to look him in the eyes. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this. And who knows, maybe it’ll remind you of your place,” he said, pushing down on his shoulder. Aziraphale fell to his knees, tears sparkling in his pale blue eyes. Gabriel shrugged off his jacket, tossing it to the floor, then unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his stiffening cock. He’d given himself an unusually large dick, and if that wasn’t vanity, Crowley didn’t know what was. 

“Archangel Gabriel,” started Crowley, his stomach twisting into knots. “Please, don’t. He, I... Use me instead.” Gabriel snorted with laughter. 

“That desperate for taste of my angelic cock, are you? Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn. For now, just watch,” he said, and with a snap of his fingers, Crowley found he couldn’t move. He pulled at the invisible restraints, his heart thudding in his chest. Aziraphale wouldn’t know how to cope, he’d never... Gabriel threaded his fingers through his soft curls and tightened his grip, wrenching his head back and making Aziraphale flinch. “Now, convince me,” he sneered. Aziraphale took a deep breath and let it out shakily. He brought up a trembling hand and grasped Gabriel’s cock, wrapping his fingers around the base and licking it with a grimace. Gabriel sighed and urged his head forward slightly. Aziraphale tentatively took the head of his cock into his mouth, and Gabriel snapped his hips forward sharply, stabbing his cock into his throat. He let out a muffled scream, desperately trying to pull his head back, stopped short by Gabriel’s hands in his hair. Aziraphale pushed at him, weakly, and Gabriel released him after a moment. Aziraphale tumbled back, retching and sobbing, his face red and wet with tears. 

“Mind the teeth, you idiot!” snarled Gabriel, his eyes alight. 

“Gabriel, please!” begged Crowley, tugging at the restraints again. “Please, use me instead. Just don’t touch him. I—I’ll make it good for you, I promise.” Gabriel heaved a sigh, managing to sound very put upon. 

“Very well. But if I’m not entirely satisfied. Well...” he trailed off, the threat implicit. He snapped his fingers, releasing Crowley. He ran to Aziraphale, who was curled up on the floor, shaking. He cradled his head in his hands, soothing the pain in his throat, brushing away a tear only to find it replaced immediately. He looked tenderly into his shining eyes, trying to convey the whole force of his love in that brief moment. Aziraphale’s lip trembled.

“If you’re quite finished,” drawled Gabriel, rolling his eyes. Crowley grit his teeth and tore himself away. He crawled toward him on hands and knees, swaying his hips, then sitting back on his heels, looking up at him through his eyelashes. 

“Shall I disrobe for you?” he murmured. Gabriel jerked his head, nodding, and Crowley untied his robe and let it pool around him. “How may I serve you, most Holy Archangel Gabriel?” purred Crowley, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. Ah, but there was a spike of arousal from Gabriel. The fucker got off on feeling superior. He could work with that. He’d be fine, he’d just pretend Gabriel was like any other client. 

“Take me in your mouth, fiend,” he growled, a flush painting his cheeks. Crowley moved in closer and licked his way up Gabriel’s cock, spreading his tongue flat and coating it in spit before closing his lips around him, suckling the tip. Gabriel breathed out sharply, and Crowley dipped his head lower, his cock breaching the entrance to his throat. He let Gabriel’s cock rest there a moment, swallowing around him, then started bobbing his head. Gabriel moaned low in his chest, and Crowley let his tongue grow longer and thinner, more serpentine, and slipped his tongue past his lips to lick and caress his sack. 

“Must be nice to know you’re good for something,” said Gabriel, his eyes closed in concentration, patting him condescendingly on the cheek. Crowley rolled his eyes and wiggled his head subtly, indicating to a trained eye that, were circumstances different, he’d be mimicking him _very_ insultingly. It did sting a little though. Despite his best efforts, Crowley still wished to be taken back into Her arms sometimes, in hidden, pitiful little corners of his mind. 

Gabriel knotted his fingers through his dark red hair and pulled his head forward sharply, thrusting deeper into his throat. Crowley adjusted his position and focused on relaxing the muscles in his neck as Gabriel began fucking his mouth, viciously hammering his cock into the folds of his throat. His eyes watered at the rough sensations, but he was glad Aziraphale didn’t have to bare it. 

“Oh, you take it so well, don’t you? Like you were made for this,” said Gabriel, panting. “You’re wasting your talent whoring yourself out for these humans. I should take you back to Heaven, hmm? You’d be servicing messengers of God, finally doing something worthwhile with your existence.” Crowley didn’t respond, his mouth being occupied, but he managed to curl his lip in a sneer. Gabriel’s cock slid in and out of his throat, his neck bulging at the intrusion. Crowley braced himself against his folded legs, not wanting to touch him more than he had to. Gabriel came down his throat with a groan, coating his mouth as he pulled out. It burned, and Crowley coughed, falling to his hands and knees. A muffled sob came from Aziraphale, who was still curled on the floor. Gabriel looked down at him, smiling cruelly as he put his softening cock away. “Just think of it, Aziraphale. Any time you came to Heaven, you could get in line to use him, and you wouldn’t even be breaking any rules. You want that, don’t you? To be a good, obedient principality?” said Gabriel haughtily. Aziraphale pushed himself up to sitting and sniffed, wiping his eyes. 

“Not... not if that’s Heaven’s idea of justice,” he said shakily. Gabriel snarled and made a sweeping motion with his hand, his power pulling Aziraphale to his feet and slamming him against the wall. He gasped, the breath knocked out of him.

“You will _not_ speak to me that way, you utter failure,” he growled. “You’re supposed to strike down agents of Hell, not fall in _love_ with them, not sully your vessel by lying with this _filth._ You’re not fit to be an angel, Aziraphale. You’re nothing but a sinner.” 

“Love is not a sin, Gabriel. You would know that if you’d ever loved anyone but yourself,” said Aziraphale, his voice steady. 

“How _dare_ you,” Gabriel starting, drawing himself up. “You will Fall for this!” Aziraphale flinched as though he’d been struck, then paused. He looked Gabriel in the eyes.

“No. You can’t do that...” he started, certainty growing in his voice. “You can’t cast me out! You may outrank me, but you’re just an angel.” Gabriel took a step back, his jaw clenching. “And if I were going to Fall for being in love with Crowley, it would have happened already. Wouldn’t it?” Gabriel cast about the room, stepping back again. Then he sneered and lunged for Crowley, wrapping a hand around his neck. 

“So you’ve figured it out. Much good may it do you,” he said. Crowley’s fingers scrabbled against his grip, and he lashed out with his demonic powers, but found he couldn’t reach them. “After all, there’s nothing stopping me from hurting _him._ ” He dragged Crowley up and pressed him against the wall next to Aziraphale, lifting him so that his feet didn’t touch the floor. “He’s just a vile demon, and who could object to a little divine retribution?” He squeezed harder, and Crowley knew he didn’t need the air, but his body was starting to panic, and he could hear the bones of his neck _creaking._ He twisted and managed to kick out at Gabriel, but it didn’t help. Gabriel drew back his other hand, which was starting to glow, and his wings manifested, filling the room light. 

Crowley went slack, closing his eyes and turning his face away. He’d never had to show up to Hell without a body before, and he’d have to explain himself to Beelzebub. Still, struck down by an archangel was a pretty good excuse. He just hoped his essence wouldn’t be damaged by the smiting. He felt Aziraphale grab his hand, and he clutched at him desperately, hoping, perhaps, to reassure them both. But then Aziraphale was pressing something into his hand. He opened his eyes; it was a fine, long dagger. And he noticed, as the moment stretched, that the grip was decorated by a coiling snake, and the cross-guard was a pair of wings. He curled his fingers around the handle and, in slow-motion, raised his hand and thrust the blade forward, piercing Gabriel’s throat. The archangel's hot blood splattered across his chest, the divinity of it burning him. Gabriel staggered back, clutching his neck, a look of bewilderment and fury on his face. Crowley sagged to the floor, Aziraphale catching him as they were both released from his stranglehold. 

**You haven’t heard the last of this, either of you!** thundered Gabriel, not bothering to use his vocal chords. He disappeared in a blinding flash, the dagger clattering to the floor. Aziraphale pressed Crowley against his chest, fresh tears springing to his eyes as Crowley panted. 

“Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” cried Aziraphale, drawing back to look him up and down. He sat him down on the edge of the bed, miracled a damp towel to his hand and blotted the splashes of blood off his chest. Crowley hissed at the coolness pressing against his burns, and Aziraphale frowned, sniffing. He couldn’t heal them, perhaps because of their heavenly nature. He snapped his fingers, and Crowley’s robe found itself wrapped around him. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“What are _you_ sorry for, angel?” said Crowley, as Aziraphale switched to a clean part of the towel and cleaned his face. 

“I should have been more careful! I should have done something sooner, said something different! I should have saved you! Instead I let you... I let you...” he trailed off, choking up. “I wasn’t strong enough, Crowley. I was so _afraid._ ” He flung the towel to the floor and let out a cry of anger.

“Angel,” said Crowley firmly. “None of this is your fault.”

“I’m supposed to guard and protect, and I couldn’t... I didn’t protect _you,_ ” said Aziraphale, face creased with anguish.

“You did protect me, angel. The knife?”

“Yes, but,” Aziraphale started, wringing his hands. “But not before, not before he...” 

“No, I suppose not. But did you see the look on his stupid face when you said he’d never loved anyone other than himself? Priceless,” said Crowley, trying to smile. 

“And now _you’re_ trying to make _me_ feel better!” he wailed. He took Crowley’s hand, and the next instant they were in his flat above the bookshop. “What can I—what would help?”

“A hot bath, I think,” Crowley said, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline started to leave him. 

“Of course, my darling,” said Aziraphale leading him over to a door and opening it to reveal a black and white bathroom with a clawfoot tub already full of warm water. “I’ll just... leave you to it then?” Crowley nodded every so slightly, and Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder a moment, then left. Crowley closed the door behind him and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the water was steaming, hot enough to scald, but just right for a demon. He climbed in, slowly settling himself into the tub, leaving his robe on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will pick up from the end of chapter four, so this one doesn't really go in the timeline

**Author's Note:**

> More to come as its written, feel free to leave some suggestions in the comments <3
> 
> Please feel free to check out my website at https://kateglittoris.wordpress.com/


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